The Poetical Works of Robert Story | ||
78
Long within the Danish Camp.
1826.
Long within the Danish camp
Had the sound of wassail rung;
In the King's pavilion long
Had the Danish minstrels sung;
When a Saxon bard there came
With a harp of simplest frame,
But the notes were notes of flame
Which it flung!
Had the sound of wassail rung;
In the King's pavilion long
Had the Danish minstrels sung;
When a Saxon bard there came
With a harp of simplest frame,
But the notes were notes of flame
Which it flung!
I may not give his lay—
It hath suffered wrong from time,
And its spirit ill would brook
The gyves of modern rhyme.
To old Denmark's name it rose,
In her glory rung its close,
And the cheers of England's foes
Drowned the chime.
It hath suffered wrong from time,
And its spirit ill would brook
The gyves of modern rhyme.
To old Denmark's name it rose,
In her glory rung its close,
And the cheers of England's foes
Drowned the chime.
But beneath the seeming praise
There lay irony and scorn,
Which the jealous bards have caught,
And have round in whispers borne.
The King and nobles laughed
At the hints they gave, and quaffed
But a deeper, merrier draught
Till the morn.
There lay irony and scorn,
Which the jealous bards have caught,
And have round in whispers borne.
The King and nobles laughed
At the hints they gave, and quaffed
But a deeper, merrier draught
Till the morn.
79
The morn had scarcely broke
On the land and on the wave,
When around the Danish camp
Thronged the flower of England's brave—
Still beamed the morning star
From its misty heights afar,
When the Danes awoke to war,
And the grave!
On the land and on the wave,
When around the Danish camp
Thronged the flower of England's brave—
Still beamed the morning star
From its misty heights afar,
When the Danes awoke to war,
And the grave!
That minstrel led the fight!
He was England's martial lord,
The glo ous Alfred famed
For the lyre as for the sword.
Joy, joy to tower and town!
Joy, joy to dale and down!
Our Monarch to his crown
Is restored!
He was England's martial lord,
The glo ous Alfred famed
For the lyre as for the sword.
Joy, joy to tower and town!
Joy, joy to dale and down!
Our Monarch to his crown
Is restored!
The Poetical Works of Robert Story | ||